


Don't Mention It

by takeitbabyboy



Series: Hogwarts Verse [1]
Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: First Time, Frottage, Harry Potter Crossover AU, Hate Sex, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-28
Updated: 2013-02-28
Packaged: 2017-12-03 21:30:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,341
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/702835
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/takeitbabyboy/pseuds/takeitbabyboy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A J2 AU sort-of based on Drarry in the Harry Potter Universe. Features BoyWhoLived!Jared and PurebloodAsshole!Jensen on the Quidditch Pitch.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Don't Mention It

It's rainy. The Quidditch pitch is soggy under his feet as Jared walks out, broom under his arm. He needs some time to be alone, to fly until he forgets he's the goddamn boy-who-lived and thirty-something teens are counting on him to teach them ‘how he does it’.  


Fuck. As if he does anything except get lucky, time and time again. From the moment he learned who he really was, there's been pressure on his shoulders, but the only conscious decision that Jared ever made was to pick the best fucking friends in the world. Without Gen and Misha to bail his ass out of trouble, he'd have been lost long ago.

He sloshes through the mud, boots plodding loudly with each step as he white-knuckles his broomstick and grits his teeth. It's too fucking much. Not even his friends can help today. He just needs to forget- get up in the air and let it all disappear.

Jared feels like screaming with rage when he sees someone else on the pitch. It's an irrational reaction. The pitch isn't booked today and anyone is free to use it, but with weather like this it should have been his. Jared doesn't know what he can do if he doesn't even have this to get him out of his funk.

He gets closer, hoping that it's another Gryffindor, or at least a Hufflepuff swooping around—surely he could pull for some alone time as the rumored ‘Chosen One’—when he notices a flash of green amid the black robes. _Fuck._ The Slytherin is wearing goggles, hiding his identity while he's so high up. Jared knows he's been spotted when he sees the broom angled downward, making a large loop to come back toward the grass.

He's praying that it's not Ackles, but of course it is. Jensen _fucking_ Ackles. Jensen slides way-too-fucking-gracefully off of his broom. His footsteps are light on the soggy ground in a way that serves to further annoy Jared, who's got wet splotches up to his knees by now.

“Well, well. Padalecki.” Jensen sneers at him, as he slides the goggles up onto his forehead. There are pink lines on the bridge of Ackles' nose where the goggles were pressing in and Jared has an odd sensation of wanting to touch the marks—before he decides it's merely an urge to smash Jensen's nose into his face.

“What do you want, Ackles?” Jared answers through clenched teeth. He takes a step forward unconsciously, only realizing he's moved when his boot makes a loud squelching sound.

Jensen mirrors him, a sinister smile pulling at his mouth as he lets his eyes trail over Jared's messy robes. “I don't want anything, Padalecki. I was flying, minding my own business when I saw your giant ass mucking up the field.”

It's been this way between them for years, tension since the very first day Jared chose to stand by his poor best friend and a know-it-all muggleborn, instead aligning himself with the prestige that comes along with being an affluent pureblood.

“Fuck off, Ackles.” Jared spits, pulling his own goggles down across his nose. “I came here to fly, and I'm not going to let you screw it up.” He straddles his broomstick and cocks his head at Jensen as if to say, _Are you going to move, fuckface?_

“Don't let me keep you. Wouldn't want to upset the Headmaster's golden boy,” Jensen's smirk deepens into something sinister, as if he's in on some joke Jared's missing, and it fuels the fire in Jared's belly. He pushes off the ground abruptly, narrowly missing Jensen's ducked head, and shoots into the sky like a bullet.

Already he feels about a million times better. It's like he's left his problems on the ground below him. Suspended in midair with the cool patter of rain on his cheeks, there's nothing to lament, nothing to stress over. Jared and the sky, completely at peace.

Of course, that lasts all of two minutes before Jensen gets back into the air. He's swooping up and down in Jared's field of vision, ruining the tranquility that had finally begun to settle Jared's tense nerves.

Jared reacts the only way he knows how. He soars up towards the clouds, moving across the pitch with more agility, tighter and faster than Jensen is able. He can see Jensen in the periphery, attempting a poor imitation of Jared's actions. It gives him a twist of pleasure in his gut knowing that Jensen cannot follow as closely as he wants—that he's trying and failing.

There are many things in Jared's life that he isn't sure of. He's not sure if he's going to pass Potions this term. He isn't sure that he's a good kisser (Sandy McCoy had cried all over his cheeks, either way). He isn't sure if he's going to manage to stay alive until graduation.

But Jared Padalecki is damn sure he's a good Quidditch player.

Jensen is eating Jared's dust and it gives him a feeling of deep, warm satisfaction he can feel throughout his body. His cock is lying fat against his thigh, excitement making him fill and lengthen under the layers of robes. Jared is suddenly aware of the polished wood handle pressing up against him, firm pressure on his taint, and he has to shake his head slightly to stop his focus from shifting.

He's having too much fun with this to get distracted.

Jensen gains on him a bit during the moment's hesitation, and Jared swoops, feinting towards the ground before sharply ascending. Jensen skids in his path, tail of his broom spinning him in loose semicircles as he tries to avoid crashing into the ground.

Jared watches, a few yards overhead, as Jensen comes to a messy stop, feet skidding in mud and torn grass as he lands. He laughs deep and long as he lowers himself to the ground.

Jared cackles at the sight of Jensen's expensive pants and shoes covered in thick brown mud, robes splattered with droplets of grime. “Looking good, Ackles.”

Jensen tosses his broom aside, gets into Jared's space, “Fuck you, Padalecki.”

Jared is high on elation, Jensen's humiliation filling his chest with sick satisfaction, laughter still aching in his ribs. Jared ignores Jensen as he hops off his broom, and pulls off his gear. He can tell it's making Jensen more aggravated, and for some reason he loves that. It makes Jared feel like before on his broom, heat prickling between his legs.

Jared's about to open his mouth, tell Jensen what a shitty flier he is, make some comment about the mud stains on his expensive clothes, when Jensen starts in on him.

“You think you're so fucking great, don't you, Padalecki? Fucking boy-who-lived to be a pain in my ass.” Jensen grabs him by the collar, taking Jared by surprise as he tugs. Jared's weight is balanced on the balls of his feet, and he reflexively reaches out- grabs Jensen's shoulders. Hard.

“What the fuck, Ackles!” Sharp nails dig in to Jensen's skin as Jared tries to regain balance, push himself away.

Jensen grits his teeth but carries on like he hasn't noticed, face close to Jared's, green eyes narrowed with rage.

“You think you're so fucking special, don't you?” Each word is spat out like it's hard to say. “Gryffindor's _fucking_ golden boy.” Jensen laughs humorlessly, lets a puff of hot air out onto Jared's face.

Jared pushes away, no longer caring that it makes him stumble. He fall back onto the wet ground, dirty water soaking through the back of his robes. “What's it to you, Ackles?” he snaps, as he gets back to his feet, dusts off like it's going to help.

He storms over to get into Jensen's face, shoves at his chest as he pulls out his wand. Points it at Jensen's throat. “Come on _Jensen_ , tell me.” The tip of the wood presses into the skin under Jensen's jaw, but he just stands, jaw locked around a swallow. His eyes are on Jared in an unyielding glare. Jared laughs at him, bitter and mocking. “You _jealous?_ ”

Immediately, Jensen's hand comes up to swat Jared's wand from his throat. “You _wish_ , you fucking—”

They freeze, noticing just how close they've become. Their faces are inches apart, eyes locked in mutual hatred as they breathe the same rain-thick air. It feels like fire is flowing through Jared's veins, every inch of him prickling with heat and the urge to fucking destroy everything in front of him—mash Jensen's pretty fucking pureblood face right into the ground.

A distant rumble breaks the silence, and they shift. Jared isn't sure who moves first- if Jensen's fist makes it into his hair before his hand reaches Jensen's neck, but suddenly their mouths are pressed together, a violent crash of teeth and tongue. It's more satisfying than any punch, gets better when Jared bites down hard enough to draw blood and Jensen makes a needy sound into his mouth. The heady taste of salt and bitter resentment flavors the place where their lips are joined.

Jared isn't sure if he wants to push Jensen away or pull him closer, and he opts for doing both at once. He fists the fabric of Jensen's robes and hauls Jensen against his chest, licking his way into Jensen's mouth. Jared hisses as Jensen's teeth come down on his bottom lip, the painful scrape somehow going straight to his cock.

Jensen tears his mouth away from Jared abruptly. The loss of contact makes him open his eyes and mouth reflexively, just in time to see Jensen as he shoves Jared to the ground. The ground seems to suck him in, sopping wet and cold. It's horrible and it makes a squishing sound beneath his back. “You motherf—” Jensen steals the words with his tongue, fucking deep into Jared's mouth as he settles his weight on Jared's body.

“Get over it, asshole,” Jensen practically growls as he shoves his knee between Jared's legs, pressing against him just hard enough to trap his erection. Jensen rolls his hips, an almost evil smile on his lips as he presses his thigh over Jared's aching cock. “ _Someone_ liiikes this,” he singsongs, as Jared grunts. “Gryffindor's star Seeker wants to get fucked by—”

Jared grabs Jensen by the shoulders and rolls them over, sick of the teasing. Jensen's eyes widen with surprise, as if he had forgotten for a moment that Jared is larger and stronger than him. Jared echoes Jensen's position from before, rubbing his pelvis across the hard line of Jensen's dick.

“Looks like someone else likes this,” he murmurs, dark and throaty against the line of Jensen's jaw. He scrapes his teeth over stubble as he moves his hips, grinding their erections together through the damp fabric. Jared lifts his head to look into Jensen's face, where his head is thrown back in pleasure. “If anyone here is getting fucked—”, he reaches a hand down between their bodies, “—it's you.” Jared squeezes Jensen's erection and Jensen lets out a moan.

The sound makes Jared feel powerful, and gives him the encouragement he needs to take things further. Jared attacks Jensen's mouth with his own as he reaches to tear open his fly. Jensen must feel the movement, because he reaches down and does the same, hot smooth flesh of his bare cock pressing against Jared's. Jared wants to look—wants to see if Jensen's cock is as thick and fat and smooth as it feels against him—but he can't bring himself to do anything but rut against Jensen, his cock dragging over silky skin and soft curls.

It feels incredible, like nothing he's ever felt before. Jared hasn't ever been touched like this, is working on instinct, but he must be doing something right because Jensen is canting his hips, cursing against Jared's lips. “Fuck- yeah- ungh-”

Jared isn't going to last much longer, can feel his balls pulling in toward his body, tight and full. He brings a hand back down between them to where Jensen is— _fuck_ —dripping precome. He uses his palm to smear it across the head, reveling in the desperate little mewling sounds Jensen is making as he bucks more frantically.

“ _Jared—_ ” Jensen comes with Jared's first name on his lips and that's enough to bring Jared right over the edge with him, hot splashes between them making the last few thrusts slippery and messy.

Jared lets his weight fall over Jensen, just lies there and pants for a while before he hears Jensen swearing. “Get off of me, fucking giant.”

Jared pushes up, reaching to tuck himself back into his pants. Jensen is a sight, covered in mud and come, spent cock still hanging from his open fly. “Wish I had a camera,” Jared muses to himself, lazy half-smile on his lips. He doesn't have it in him to feel anything but relaxed right now, and that works for him just fine.

Jensen buttons up and reaches into his robes before turning to Jared, wand raised.

For one second, Jared is really hurt. _After what they've done?_ But then he hears Jensen mutter, “ _Turgeo_ ,” and feels the wet filth seep out of his sodden robes.

“Thanks,” Jared murmurs softly, gathering up his Quidditch things.

“Don't mention it,” Jensen replies, turning his wand on his own cum-spattered clothing to clean off.

Jared smiles a little to himself, and starts off toward the castle, gear stashed under his arm.

“Really, Padalecki.” He hears Jensen behind him. “Don't mention it.” There's an edge of a threat in Jensen's words, but it's not nearly as strong as usual.

“Wouldn't dream of it,” Jared says without looking back.

Later, he's probably going to feel a bit more alarmed about this, but right now he can't be bothered to do anything but grab a snack from the kitchens and fall asleep. He makes his way toward the castle with a grin on his face, for the first time all week.


End file.
